A Love Unending
by Roswell1828
Summary: Sequel to Phantom of the Opera. Will Christine stay with Raoul or go to Erik? Read and find out ;
1. Prologue

A Love Unending

By: Shannon O'Brien

PROLOGUE

The tragic and mysterious events of the Opera Populaire had bestowed dark impressions upon the young Christine Daaé and Raoul de Chagny. The ordeal had left the two with scars which would never fully heal. The darkness they believed they had fled from,fervently pursued them. It had seeped its way into their pores, clinging to the very fibers of their souls. It refused to be blown asunder and denied to be brushed lightly to the side to be forgotten. Constantly, they were reminded of the very time in their lives that both endlessly sought to wash from their memories. Memories however, were something that Christine and Raoul would have to contend with for the rest of their waking moments.

For the first year of their married life, Raoul and Christine tried desperately to achieve happiness, hoping that the past would remain behind them, where it would never shadow their days. Both longed for the marriage which they had been so certain was destined to be theirs. They could not allow themselves to accept that they would never grasp it.

The events of the Opera Populaire, and the struggle Christine and Raoul had to endure for their freedom, for their love and life, had ultimately left its impact upon the young couple. They were ensnared, in what resembled some horrific gothic fairytale that would not relinquish its icy hold. What the two had endured changed them. So changed, that the little Soprano and the young Vicomte, who had ardently promised themselves to each other, were regretfully no longer the two innocent children they once had been. Those children were lost forever . . . they had died far beneath the Opera Populaire, somewhere within its vast labyrinth of darkness.

They had set off to a fairy tale beginning. Their youthful love whispering glorious promises to each of them, engulfing them with sweet dreams of what was to come. Their marriage now, was nothing more than a shattered dream. A beautiful dream, but shattered just the same. Fate and circumstances had changed their paths, and yet they had still refused to succumb to the reality that was right there, before their very eyes. Christine and Raoul were determined to prove, that all they had undergone and had struggled for had not been in vain. It was demonstrated by the way they diligently tried to salvage their marriage and in turn, save their lives which had traveled so utterly off track. For Christine and Raoul, the ending to their own fairy tale was nothing at all how they had envisioned it to be. . . .

There was another party to this twisted tale.

A man whom created the events that forever altered the fate of the young couple. A monster who experienced but one loving touch in his life, and it was from the hand of an angel. This poor, shell of a man, suffered from the same hollow life that stood before the formerly happy couple. He was the shadow of doubt in their marriage, just as _they_ were the shadows which haunted him. He believed when Christine left, the tale was over.

He was wrong.

The end to their tortured tale was still to come; for all fairy tales, even dark ones, must come to an end. . . .

***Author's Note:**

**Hey guys!**

**Okay, so this was the first ever fan fic I wrote, and was going to post here, but never did. I wrote this in '05 so you'll see my writing style is a bit different than now (I've read A LOT since then). This would never have been shared with you all if my dear beta, GraySkies29, hadn't looked it over and condensed the prologue (it was originally like 11 pages, now it's 3, lol). I have 3 chapters written and GraySkies29 is going to look them over and edited them for me. I can't promise that I'll finish this one, but I hope you like what I've got ;) **

**xo**

**-Shannon***


	2. Chapter One

_~Chapter One~_

_(Paris, 1877)_

"Christine!" Raoul yelled and then faltered, before continuing in a gentler tone, "Please darling, I'm trying to do this for your own good. What I am asking is not a selfish request. Christine; it's not something I am asking you to do solely for my own benefit."

She rose anxiously from the red velvet chair where Raoul knelt before her and uneasily paced the span of her suite. Every stressed step was followed by the rustling sound of lace upon her cream colored night-shift as it stirred with the movements of her terse body.

Her suite was a thing of beauty and undeniably something impressive to behold. It was large, immensely so, consisting of a small sitting room, a massive bedchamber, a full bathroom that contained all the superb new amenities and finally,her closets; any one of which could have easily been considered a small room. They were complete with garments, enough to adorn something different every day if she chose. Sadly, the beautiful attire had hung there, left to linger upon hangers and rest on shelves. She had not left to attend any social gatherings, or even to dine out with her husband and the breath-taking dresses, stoles, hats and shoes were of no use to her. She did not wish to socialize with those who meant nothing to her. There was not one among them,whom she could confide in or form a friendship with.

She had learned, early on, the sole reason she was not ridiculed openly was because she was the _Comtesse de Chagny_, and even though Raoul had made a grievous error, in most everyone's opinion by marrying her, he was an upstanding young man who showed great political potential. The fact that he had not betrothed someone of his own standing could be overlooked. So they smiled when they saw her, but the moment her back was turned, their smiles and looks of approval became heated gazes of scorn and distaste.

She began to gradually plummet deeper into a black void as time wore on, and the only place she longed to exist was within the walls of her suite. Somewhere along the way,it had been silently established that they would share separate beds. Neither spoke of if, what was the point? The two had not been husband and wife for some time. They had become more friends than lovers.

All though, it had broken her heart when Raoul had begun to sleep in the suite next to their own, she had come to slowly worship the quite stillness. For Christine, the suite was her one place of refuge. It was the only space,in their vast estate, where she could run, and hide from a life that had taken a path she had never foreseen. And in so doing, she could escape by isolating herself, removed from all that could bring the harsh light of reality. And shecould still pretend, still dream that her life and heart, were not fading tediously away with each passing day.

Raoul spared no expense when it had come to furnishing and decorating their extravagant suite. He made it perfectly clear that she would have whatever her heart desired. He had become the Comte de Chagny two days before their wedding and there was no one left to answer to. He held sole control over his parents'estate until his sister, Danielle, reached the age of twenty one, at which time, she would attain an equal share.

The former Comte and Comtesse, had been headed back from a holiday spent traveling the coast of America. They were coming home early in preparation for their son's wedding – a wedding they were none too pleased about. They had written to him, begged him to reconsider, or to at the very least, postpone until well after their return so that they might speak with him more extensively.

His reply had been simple:

_Mother, Father,_

_I love her. _

_There will be no postponement._

_Raoul_

The Comte and Comtesse knew their son far too well; anything they would have had to say as an objection would have fallen upon deaf ears. They loved him dearly and though it was not what they wanted, had envisioned for him, that they would support him. After all, he was their son.

Tragically, fate had seen that they would never live to see him marry. The ship they were aboard, destined for France, went down,and Comtesse Aurélle de Chagny and Comte Arnaud de Chagnywere among those who had perished.

In the need to overcome his poisonous grief, Raoul changed the date of the wedding from two weeks, to two days. He needed Christine to be his wife then, at that moment, not in one month's time. He had to begin to live his life, and only then would he feel that the loss of his parents had meant something. He vowed he would become successful, to be a loving husband, someone who fought for the rights of those who had no voice and through all of that, his parents deaths would not have been in vain. They had left him behind, and he was determined to make them proud of the man he promised he would one day become.

When Raoul gained control of the estate and its assets, he saw no harm in letting his wife spend what she wished on renovating their suite, which she had begged him earnestly to do; it had seemed so vastly important for her to make the space her own. If it would please her, there was no question in his mind. Christine and Danielle, his younger sister, had him wrapped around their fingers and their will was happily his command.

Given the opportunity to decorate however she chose, Christine could not help but fondly remember the colors and textures of the opera. She had always adored the brilliant reds, the shimmering golds that adorned the building she had thought of as home.

The end result of her taste in décor did indeed show an eerie resemblance to her former home. Raoul had never spoken a word of it, but none the less, his heart had still throbbed with a dull ache when he had first seen their suite; He couldn't help but feel a sense of defeat. It was blatantly obvious that she still clung to the past, and he felt that if Christine could only forget, if he could only forget, things would be so very different for them.

Raoul had only wanted to take her from that monster. A monster who induced nothing but nightmares; nightmares,he wished they never had to endure. If he could have, he would have wiped the past from both of their memories. He didn't want to be reminded daily of events that never left his thoughts. He had reasoned however, that if decorating the rooms in a resemblance to her former home comforted her and made her happy in the slightest, he simply hadn't the heart to trample her fervor. It made her smile luminescent, and her eyes sparkle with life as she had wrapped her arms around him and happily exclaimed, _"Its wonderful darling isn't it? Thank you! Thank you!"_ She replied as she covered his face with affection.

He lived for the days when she genuinely smiled. For on those days he saw, once again,a small glimpse of his Lotte; the girl he had fallen in love with so many years before. She was the person he believed he had married. But the days of genuine happiness from his wife, were few and far between.

From the start of the debate they were currently engrossed in, Christine had never refrained from wringing at the invisible wet cloth clutched within her hands. Those capricious hands had never failed to display the anxiety concealed within. If ever one person could have such an obvious tell, it was she and her roaming fingers.

Christine ceased her endless wandering, and sat heavily upon the burgundy velvet settee in the small sitting room of her suite.

"Please do not make me go!" She plead desperately, her chocolate eyes growing large with fright.

Raoul made his way across the room and sat down softly beside her. Instinctively, he took his wife into his embrace. She let him pull her close but was rigid within his arms.

She had made so many attempts not to stiffen at the feel of her body against his. She had loved his soft, gentle caresses so much at one time. Once, there would have been a time when Christine would have warmly welcomed his affection. But times had changed and so had she. She was warm and caring with him, when there was no danger of it escalating into anything beyond.

They hadn't made love since taking up residency in separate rooms. For two years, they had forgone the touch of intimacy. They had relinquished that facet of their marriage after attempting to have a child for four years, with no success. They sought a child with a yearning beyond any other, each secretly believed that a child was the answer to their troubles; a light in the dark. But sadly, for them, it was a light which seemed as though it would never grace them with its glow.

Christine felt inadequate when she could not conceive. It was a right every woman had; yet it was a right denied her. She couldn't stop the gnawing feeling that she was plagued by some unseen curse, a curse that had hung over her since the night she left the opera; since the night she left _him_.

To put an stop to the constant disappointment and the never ending heartache, she did the only thing she could do to spare herself the pain of forever being dissatisfied; pulled further away from Raoul than she had already been from then start.

_Yet, here you are – still by my side. Oh, Raoul. . ._

Raoul, someone who had never caused her harm, pulled his crestfallen form from hers, mutely accepting the indifference to his touch.

She saw the hurt and anguish in his cerulean eyes and felt as though she might die of shame; she was the one who had placed it there. Every ounce of pain within his heart was because of her.

She desperately yearned to cry out, _"I'm so sorry. Please forgive me my sweet prince; please forgive these last six years. Raoul, it is __you____that I love and only you!" _But she never achieved the will to utter a word. She knew that she could never articulate those words with absolute and unwavering certainty.

"Raoul," Christine reached out to take his hand in hers. "I'll ask just once more. Must we honestly go? Must we really return to a place that holds so many painful memories for us? That still haunts our dreams?" Every word was laced with undeniable fright.

Raoul looked and allowed himself to see, for the first time, just what had become of his wife.

Lovely, glorious, vivacious Christine had died. The fragile and darkened creature he currently saw was a ghost. Her eyes were shadowed in melancholy, her skin pale and sickly from lack of sun, and her petite frame was more fragile than he had ever seen.

She was a dying blossom.

He could see by the trembling of her body and the fear in her eyes, that what he was asking of her, was tearing her delicate heart and mind to pieces.

_I want to spare you pain Christine, and shelter you, that is all I have ever wanted. For once though, I must listen to mind and not my heart. I'm so frightened that if I continue to allow you to remain within these rooms any moment longer there will be nothing left for me to save. . . ._

Christine was neck deep in quicksand, sinking further with every moment that passed.

_I'll be damned if I'm not going to save you! If hurting you, Christine, is what it will take to revive you to all that you once were . . . Then there is no other choice._

"Darling, you should know that this is not an event that I am looking forward to, but none the less, I must attend. Doing this is something that will help the both of us. Who knows?" He smiled at her in hope. "Maybe we will finally rid ourselves of those nightmares." His eyes searched hers for a sign of optimism, but all he received in return was the frightened, untrusting eyes of a ghostly child.

Raoul sighed long, and slow before concluding, "That building is gone Christine, and anything that could have harmed you is long gone, as well."

The building Raoul spoke of was indeed no more. All that remained of the original structure was the foundation. That stayed because the new building was under government funding, and the French government saw no reason to pay twice the amount to replace, what in truth, need not be replaced. So in actuality, there did remain something of the old goliath within the new giant. The structure had not been named after its predecessor. It was simply the Paris Opera House, a stunning building of opulence and grandeur; every inch of it designed by a promising young architect, Charles Garnier.

Christine knew it was no longer the same, not truly, but it was a place that still represented loss, and sorrow, and with Raoul a member of the Chamber of Deputies, it was a social scene that he could no longer ignore; nor could she. After all, she was his wife, expected to be at his side at all times. Her husband would not be well received should she always be vacant from his side.

Unbeknownst to her, Raoul had politely declined many previous invitations since the grand opening one year prior, and if he wanted any hope in continuing with his political career, he could not refuse this last offer to attend the premier performance of a new opera. It was of late, the subject of conversation and every person that would be able to further his career would be attending. He knew that if he did not make an appearance, he could not rely on any of them for support.

They sat in silence; two lost children waiting pathetically for someone, _anyone_,to rescue them.

Christine looked at her husband; he seemed so unhappy.

_I want to make you happy Raoul, more than anything I long to bring you a sense of contentment . . . but I must also keep you at a distance. I cannot make myself happy darling, how am I supposed to do so for you?_

As she watched his sky eyes darken with clouds, his golden hair with its fading gleam hang in his eyes, she couldn't help but feel sympathy and guilt. She felt so sorry for him, for what had become of him. She knew that he deserved so much more.

_It's all my doing – his unhappiness – loneliness. I've made of him what he is; a lost boy . . . forever waiting for me__to come to his rescue. I'm no heroine, Raoul!_

But there was at least one thing she could do to help.

She would return to the opera.

Gently, Christine brushed back the stray golden locks which had fallen from place. He jerked at her touch, not expecting it, and the action filled her with a wave of pain.

_Oh, my love, what have I done to you? I'm so sorry it had to be this way. I wanted a baby. God help me, I want one still; so much so that I would kill for one! Please, understand that I just cannot take the disappointment. Know__,____please know, Raoul that my heart cannot endure it. I want to save you, I do. But I can't . . . I can't!_

She sighed.

_How patient he's been, after all this time. He still tries, still makes an attempt. He never forces; but silently understands and leaves with another crack in his gradually shattering heart. And it's because of me! My sweet boy deserves someone so much better than I._

Looking into his storm filled eyes, she spoke, and a gentle smile gracing her lips. "Do not look so sad my prince. You are right. This is something we should do. Perhaps it will do us good. Maybe then. . ." Her words trailed off.

Slowly, minutely slow, her graceful hand rose to him, as she began to caress the smoothness of his cheek. He could not help but lean into her, to her touch, to close his eyes and savor it. To be near enough to breath in her intoxicating scent racked him with chills; her touch was a rare gem, one he wanted to hold to as long as he could.

"My love, my sweet boy who fetched my scarf from the sea a thousand years ago . . . I will go. For _you_ I shall go."

Raoul turned to her in amazement.

"You'll accompany me Christine, sincerely you will?" He exclaimed in shock as he leapt from the settee.

She answered, a lovely smile still present, "I will go, but only because _you_ will be there to give me the strength I so lack." Stopping a moment, her smile faded as sorrow came to rest within her eyes. "I just want to say now, that I am so sorry. I'm sorry that I'm not a stronger person. I can only pray that you do not despise me because of it." She lifted her eyes to meet his and as she did, a tear escaped and made a slow, pitiful dash down her haunted face.

"Despise you? Sweetheart, have you gone mad?" Raoul cried fervently, as he fell to his knees at her feet. "Christine," he began, while holding her frail hands in his, "I have never despised you. I love you. Yes, there are times when I can get angry, but never is there a moment when I feel one ounce of hatred towards you. I cannot. It is not your fault for the happenings in our past.

"Do you honestly believe it matters to me if you are weak? If you are weak and need strength, then my strength you shall have. Darling," he murmured, as and hope burned within,his free hand tentatively making its way to caress the softness of her cheek. "I'm here, Lotte. You shall always have me. My love, we're married, you are my wife and if we work together, than there is no obstacle we cannot overcome."

She was taken aback by the assurance in his voice. He was so confident that everything _was_ that simple. It was clear the way his eyes burned bright with conviction, with hope, that he did believe if they could lean on one another, that they would conquer anything.

Lost in her turmoil of emotions, she hadn't been aware of the feathery kisses being placed upon her hands, and attentively making their way up, but now her heart beat madly.

She desperately needed to hope there was a way to save their marriage. She wished for nothing more in the world than to be able to wake up one morning and know, without a doubt, that she had chosen right. That the sacrifice she had made, had been worth it.

When Raoul, with trembling lips, kissed Christine, and she returned it, his heart beat on, quickly catching her own hurried rhythm.

With a spark of hope ignited, and the longing for the life she had always dreamt of smoldering within her, Christine pushed any warnings to the side.

Very slowly they made their way across the room; both appeared as though in a dream.

Raoul moved, touched, and kissed her gently, not wanting to frighten her away. He was petrified that any wrong movement would send her fleeing from his arms, so he restrained his hungering lips. The strength of withholding all he wished to do to her was very near unbearable. How many countless times in the past two years had he dreamt of his wife's touch? Now he had her, and he was cautious not to do anything that might make her leave his yearning embrace.

Christine was lost in a dream. She was engulfed within one of her own making. She had to be. She had retreated to that far corner of her mind where she could hide from the nagging doubts and the continuous warnings of her heart. A place where she could allow herself to hope when in reality, there was none.

There in that candle lit room, beneath the wine-colored canopy of her bed, with the feel of satin sheets surrounding their tremulous forms, Christine and Raoul made love for the first time in two years.

Two souls, adrift in sea of make-believe, searching for that long lost island of hope. The wish to find the love they had once shared made them blind to the fact that they would never discover that island, the blissful paradise they had dreamt of.

It would remain just out of reach . . . forever floating on with the tide of life.

***Author's Note: I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter better than the prologue. I had my awesome beta, Grayskies29, edit this for me, and as soon as she did – I saw what else was rubbish and had to be removed and/or replaced. Took me 3 hours to edit it. I saved the finished version, or so I thought, and had to do it all over again when I realized it hadn't actually saved at all! No worries, I got it done, eventually ;p **

**As always – please don't forget to let me know what you think in a review ;) Thanks for reading!**

**-Shannon***


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